Twisted Fate:
by Bottou-chan
Summary: Fifteen years in the future, an unwitting Ganko and Koganei reunite.
1. Twisted Fate: Omoide (Recollection)

**Twisted Fate**

**Chapter One: Omoide (Recollection)**

**[Bottou-chan][1]**

**[My Page][2]**

  
**** 

Author's Note:   


O-bon: All Souls' Festival, usually held in mid-August; a time when the spirits of the dead are believed to return to their hometowns. The living also return to their hometowns; traditional dances and activities are held. 

Sukiyaki: A meat and vegetable dish. 

****   
  
  


It was all so long ago-- my memories are fragmented, blurred images-- like piecing together bits of a dream. 

A vivid red dress-- a man with a mask who I had grown to trust, then fear, then love again. 

A boy with a bandaid across his cheek-- he must have been a boy, although at the time, he had seemed like a man. So much older than I, yet how immature! I still remember his rash ways. 

A tall, hulking mountain of another man-- so strong! He picked me up and carried me so easily. For all his size, he was a teddy bear when it came to little girls, although we loved to torment each other. 

Another man, who looked like a girl-- he always had such a cold, empty look in his eye. The look always reminded me of the look in the masked man's face, although I don't think I ever told him that. 

The boy with the brown hair. He and I were the closest, in age if not much else. He was smart, brilliant-- I remember him idly shuffling his Rubix cube. He had an enormous gold... thing... a weapon of some sort, which could change shape so easily under his expert hands. 

The soft-spoken woman. She had mousy brown hair, and could heal wounds. The princess of the fairy tale, for whom everyone fought. Very gentle, and I remember being jealous. I wished I could have such fuss made over me-- but I was only a child, and she was adult. 

The woman with the moles under her lip. I remember those moles... and that she only wore one earring. She was a pretty, young woman with black hair, although I seem to remember stories being told of how she was over four hundred years old, and couldn't die. She was cursed, they said. 

And finally, the woman with the purple hair, the one whose family took me in after I left the Enormous Mansion where the masked man lived. Her name, I remember-- Kirisawa Fuuko. I was with her family for five years. She had left, with the others, during the Tendoujigoku affair... amazing, how I remember that when everything else was so fuzzy. When she came back, she was different. She refused to tell me much of what had gone on, but I had the impression that it was too horrible for words. She didn't want to frighten me. 

Shortly after she came back, the Kirisawa family moved to Sapporo, on Hokkaido. There were a few sporadic letters exchanged back and forth, but we lost contact with the others. Team Hokage faded into the distant past, occasionally resurfacing to appear in my dreams. 

I don't know where they are now. Presumably, they have split up to pursue their own individual lives. 

Hokage... that word is still in my mind. The need for the Hokage ceased after the lifting of the mole-lipped lady's curse. After the defeat of the masked man's father. There seems to be no place for flame masters and water manipulators in today's world, yet I'm sure those people are still alive somewhere. Presumably, they take the subway to work in the morning, wearing coat and tie, coming home to the smell of sukiyaki and the shouts of their children. 

I rarely think about them nowadays. Why should I? Fifteen years have passed since then, and the only one I still keep in touch with is Fuuko. Yet even with her, my visits are mostly relegated to returning to the Kirisawas' to celebrate O-bon. 

I have a degree in business from a prestigious university in Nagoya; and have recently been accepted into a management position in a banking firm in Yokohama. I am caught up in the whirlwind of the present; yet a childlike facet of me takes comfort in reminiscing about my unique past. I rather wish I could remember more of it, or had kept a diary. At the very least, I wish that my Kodotsu could unlock my faded memories. I haven't used it in years; still, I take it out of its box on occasion, and hold it in my hand. 

It gives me a warm feeling inside. 

   [1]: mailto:koganeikaoru@hotmail.com
   [2]: http://www.geocities.com/reccamuseum/



	2. Twisted Fate: Ima (Present)

**Twisted Fate**

**Chapter Two: Ima (Present)**

**[Bottou-chan][1]**

**[My Page][2]**

  
**** 

Author's Note:   


Bento: A packed box lunch. 

**** 

There was a new woman who joined the firm last week; tall, beautiful, blonde. You'd think she was someone out of those American magazines, but she speaks perfect Japanese. Her name is Morikawa Gananori. 

She had performed several internships at our branch in Nagoya; Morikawa-san was sent to us with the highest of recommendations. Her performance for this past week has been exemplary; between her looks, her charm, and her talent, she'll go far before her career is over. 

The first time she came into my office, she saw the Rubix cube on my desk. "I used to know a boy who did this," she had remarked, her eyes lighting up. "I haven't seen one of these in years. He was incredibly good at it." 

"I'm not half-bad myself," I had told her, my eyes sparkling mischeviously. 

She shook her head, shuffling through it thoughtfully. "There's no way you could've beaten the boy I used to know. He was a pro at it." 

I took it from her hands. "It helps me relax," I explained, my fingers flying through the familiar motions. "I've done this for years." It was unscrambled in less than twenty seconds; I tossed it back into her hands. "Could he do it faster than that?" I inquired, and she smiled. 

"He could have finished in half the time," Morikawa-san had assured me. Discussion lapsed back on-track into business once more, but I was intrigued. 

Ever since I was in junior high, I was popular with girls. Heck, I was even attractive to men back then-- which was scary. They were always competing for my attention... who could pack the cutest bento? Who would get to be in the same study group as me? Who would get to walk home with me? It's not that I'm full of myself-- it's a statement of fact. 

Time wore on. High school, college, the professional world. Things changed. I'm 28 now... never married; never in a serious relationship for long; happily, still viewed as attractive. My position within the banking community is very promising, and makes me even more desirable as a catch. Yet here's my newest subordinate-- bright, witty, beautiful in her own right. But instead of trying to ingratiate herself by being in perpetual agreement-- she dares to tell me that I could be out-maneuvered by a boy from her past, in a field in which I take exceptional pride in my skill. 

I find that rather intriguing. 

Surely someone as beautiful as Morikawa-san has had more than her own share of men falling at her feet. I vowed not to be another of them-- how ridiculous it would be; me, her superior! 

Still, the thought is addictive, and pleasant in the fact that it would be a dangerous thing to pursue. Consequently, I take my pleasure where I can, keeping it all in my mind. Yet I treasure the moments when I pass her in the hall, or call her into my office on some pretext. 

She has such lovely hair; yellow, like afternoon sunlight filtering through the summer sky. Her eyes are blue, always smiling, yet with a certain sharpness and perception behind them. Morikawa-san possesses such a graceful walk-- a gentle sway, with a hint of determination in her footsteps. When she says in her pleasant alto voice, "I'll get right on it, Koganei-san," a warm feeling rushes over me. 

I wonder what it would be like to have a different kind of relationship with her-- one less formal, less restrictive. But it would be a dangerous thing to pursue, so I content myself with my private thoughts. 

   [1]: mailto:koganeikaoru@hotmail.com
   [2]: http://www.geocities.com/reccamuseum



	3. Twisted Fate: Omoi (Thoughts)

**Twisted Fate**

**Chapter Three: Omoi (Thoughts)**

**[Bottou-chan][1]**

**[My Page][2]**

  


Koganei-san is nice enough. I get the feeling that he's always watching me; however, that's normal for a superior to watch his subordinate, especially during the first half-year. 

I've only been here for two months now. I strive to do my best job; hopefully, that will ease his eagle eye. But despite my efforts, my promptness, and my efficiency, he still has a habit of summoning me into his office for any imagined reason. 

It's as though to say, "I'm keeping my eye on you." 

I do my best to come through. 

Sometimes, I wonder. Is it all business with him? I've attracted my fair share of men in my life, and can usually discern when I'm being contemplated in That Way. Yet with Koganei-san, I find it difficult to imagine him imagining me as a potential love interest. I chide myself for thinking such things; surely, he has better things to do than think of me Like That. 

For that matter, I have better things to do than think of him in That Way. 

I've gone out a few times with the others in the office-- in groups, of course. But past experience has told me it's best not to mix my personal and professional lives so closely, and I remain somewhat aloof from any would-be advances. 

Yet I find myself somehow attracted to Koganei-san, on a level that I can't quite explain. It's like we have a bond between us... a bond established before we even met. We have a certain rapport... a certain sense of 'togetherness', dare I say... our minds work on the same wavelength. 

I sense... something... in him, and it intrigues me. Yet he remains a mystery to me, even though so far away. I can't put my finger on it exactly, yet I can't deny that it's there. That... something... 

I wonder if he feels it, too. 

I go about my work, mechanically, like an efficient machine. One part of my mind is processing the numbers and lists dutifully. Yet another part of my mind is creating an elaborate scenario, with an imaginary Koganei-san, and an imaginary me, and the way it could have been, if only. 

How much of my life can be summed up as "could have been, if only?" 

It's time for my feet to stay on the ground. My childhood was crazy; the thing of fantasies. I had more than enough excitement in my early years. Now that I am an adult, I need to keep my head from the clouds. 

   [1]: mailto:koganeikaoru@hotmail.com
   [2]: http://www.geocities.com/reccamuseum/



	4. Twisted Fate: Sozo (Creation of the Mind...

**Twisted Fate**

**Chapter Four: Sozo (Creation of the Mind)**

**[Bottou-chan][1]**

**[My Page][2]**

  


She's been here for six months, now. Yet I still can't get her out of my mind. 

It's as though I've constructed a false Morikawa-san, and projected her onto the real one. I've never experienced an infatuation for so long... usually, a date or two is enough to cure me. Yet Morikawa-san is remote, unattainable-- which doubles the fascination factor. 

I run a risk of endangering my position within the bank if I pursue her. There are strict rules within here. 

Rules, ha! I spent the first half of my life happily disregarding them. My childhood wasn't the most ordinary. It was safe to say, my growing up was under circumstances best described as extremely unique. My role models were assassins who had a capacity for being gentle and cruel; for rescuing me from suicide and then trying to kill me themselves. 

Perhaps I'm afraid of rejection. If Morikawa-san possesses half the intelligence I give her credit for, surely she would have noticed my feelings by now. Some things don't need to be spelled out in giant characters. If she had noticed, surely she would have given me a subtle encouragement, or a subtle discouragement. 

That would have been all that was needed, and I would have reacted accordingly. 

But Morikawa-san *isn't* stupid. She's a bright young woman who sees more than she lets on, and hears more than she tells you. She has a good head on her shoulders, and a lovely body beneath her shoulders. And a lovely body beneath her shoulders-- did I mention that? 

Surely she knows how I feel. 

Is she toying with me, then? Is this some sort of complex game, a thousand times more intricate than any Rubix cube? I know she's not seeing anyone-- that's been established in casual conversation, and office rumors would have updated me if she chose not to. What is her game? 

And more importantly, what's the prize? 

The warm feeling again. I close my eyes. She has such a lovely scent-- I can smell faint traces of her perfume in my office, even after she leaves. Sort of a vanilla flavor... it reminds me of kitchens and baking and a mother I lost too soon. 

But forget that part. What do I do about the present issue? 

Six months! Six long months. I've seen her face in my dreams; I've thought about her in my waking moments; I've survived boring dates with other women by entertaining myself with fantasies about Morikawa-san. 

That can't be healthy. But how do I purge her from my mind? 

That girl is dangerous. I wonder if she knows it. Perhaps she *does* know it, and revels silently to herself about how fun it is to torment a man. Just with her mere presence-- so close, yet a canyon of distance between us. 

I'm brought out of my reveries by a soft, cheerful alto voice. "Your face is like a thundercloud," Morikawa-san lightly told me, standing in my doorway with a sheaf of papers in her hand. She crossed the short distance to my desk, and deposited the report into my file box. "Perhaps you're contemplating a merger? I pity the poor business you people are taking over next." 

"Ha," I answered shortly, jolted awake. The fantasy Morikawa-san was my own creation. I was *not* to confuse her with the real one. I mentally berated myself for losing sight of reality. I discovered that I had taken my Rubix cube from my desk and was absently shuffling the tiny colored squares around. 

"Don't work too late," smiled Morikawa-san. "It's past your dinnertime." 

"What about the others?" I asked, trying to get a glimpse into the world of cubicles which existed on the other side of my open door. 

"They left hours ago," answered Morikawa. With a delicately manicured fingertip, she indicated the report just submitted. "But that's important, and I knew you wanted it before I left tonight. But *I'm* going home to *my* dinner, and I suggest *you* go home to *yours*." 

   [1]: mailto:koganeikaoru@hotmail.com
   [2]: http://www.geocities.com/reccamuseum/



	5. Twisted Fate: Kiken (Danger)

**Twisted Fate**

**Chapter Five: Kiken (Danger)**

**[Bottou-chan][1]**

**[My Page][2]**

  


I don't know what demon possessed me that night. Ordinarily, I would have turned down his invitation with a laugh at the thought I could be so stupid. 

Obviously, I am. 

Koganei-san had praised me for my good work. I felt quite pleased; even after all this time I felt I had proven myself, yet he still watched me with that eagle eye. The same calculation he applied to his Rubix cube, his business deals, and everything else was extended to include me. 

Others were not watched so carefully. I knew only I was. 

Perhaps that was why his words of praise elicited such a warm response; perhaps that's what tore down my barriers. The wall between employer and employee disintegrated for a few moments; and that's when he invited me to dinner as a reward for my dedication. 

I accepted. Normally, no matter how much I would have loved to, I would have refused. Koganei-san is an intriguing person; I feel that if I watch him and learn from him, I'll go far in the world. He seems to have a vast storehouse of knowledge, and not just dealing with the boring day-to-day business of banking and the financial industry. He has a certain glow to him... someone who's experienced Life, in a variety of facets. 

Perhaps that's what draws me closer to him... the feeling that he's experienced so much. An adventurer, perhaps, disguised in suit and tie. 

Perhaps it was that same feeling I received from him that kept the warning-bells from sounding. I had looked up to him as a student looks up to a teacher for the first six months. Yet now, that invisible barrier seemed to be disintegrating. Our relationship seemed to be progressing to the next stage. 

Perhaps I was being considered for promotion. 

In any case, I decided that as long as he was comfortable, I would be all right. After all, he had seniority over me, and I wouldn't allow my timidity to damage what might be my opportunity to succeed. 

Opportunity, of course, has its limits-- I have my pride, after all. But dinner wouldn't hurt, would it? 

We had a terrific time. It was quite a blur, thinking back on it-- we had dinner, had several drinks, chattered about everything under the sun. I found myself warming to him. He had an amazing personality which I had suspected existed, but had no idea the extent to which his charm reached. He could hold his own discussing everything and anything, with a certain panache-- from making catty comments on the outfits of passers-by, to global politics. 

I was intrigued. I had respected, liked, and looked up to Koganei-san, and was enamored to discover this new aspect of his personality. 

We ended up at his apartment for a little something to eat, a little more to drink, and a little more chitchat. Perhaps I had misgauged my tolerance-- perhaps the limit of my inhibitions were a little fuzzied by a combination of so many factors. 

It wasn't long before the distance between us diminished into nothingness. His arms were around me; the softness of his lips brushed against my cheek; I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin. 

Perhaps I should have stood up and left. 

But I didn't. 

A mean-spirited person might accuse me of having ulterior motives, but as odd as it seems, the Koganei-san on the couch next to me wasn't the same man as the one who sat in the office. Rather, this was someone else entirely... a gentle, witty, handsome man with potential as a lover. 

The age difference didn't matter. The social difference didn't matter. All that filled my thoughts was the amazing chemistry between us. 

I responded to his attentions, first softly, then more aggressively. It seemed like it had been ages since I had been with anyone-- there was an acute feeling of achiness which pleaded to be attended to. 

His hands, lips, teeth, tongue-- they reminded me of my own femininity. It sounds like a silly thing to forget, but it takes the experience of being reminded to fully comprehend my emotions. 

He took me by the hand, drawing me closer. With soft wordless murmurs, he trailed soft kisses down my neck. 

He turned off the lights and led me further into the depths of the apartment. 

   [1]: mailto:koganeikaoru@hotmail.com
   [2]: http://www.geocities.com/reccamuseum/



	6. Twisted Fate: Omoigakenai Nyusu (Revelat...

**Twisted Fate**

**Chapter Six: Omoigakenai Nyusu (Revelation)**

**[Bottou-chan][1]**

  


I awoke, in a soft tangle of sheets. Morikawa-san was lying on her side, her soft arms draped over my chest. 

She was still asleep. 

I wondered vaguely if she would hate herself. I wondered vaguely if she would hate me. It had seemed so right, so natural-- yet how often things look different in the harsh reality of the sunlight! 

Fortunately, today was Saturday. We would have until Monday to decide how our life would continue in the office. 

Morikawa-san murmured something unintelligible, nestling deeper against my chest, snuggling for warmth. I hid a smile and stroked her hair. 

It was as soft as I'd imagined. 

Would this put her from my mind, now? The ephemeral Morikawa-san of my imagining had vanished under the reality of her solid counterpart. Would the *real* Morikawa-san be as intruiging as my own creation? 

I somehow thought she would. 

I had a knack for finding beautiful women, but how difficult it was to find one who was as smart as she was pretty. If I only wanted something to look at, I would purchase a piece of art and hang it on my wall. 

Morikawa-san's eyes squinted slightly, then opened. She looked through her lashes at me. She didn't seem disoriented in the least; rather, she gave me a soft squeeze with her arms before rubbing her cheek against my chest, inhaling my scent. 

"Mmmmm," was all she breathed. 

I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and managed to bend over far enough to give her a soft kiss. "You're beautiful," I murmured, and it was true. 

"Mmmm," she answered, brushing her fingertips across my skin. She seemed more interested in early-morning loving than in dialogue, and I was happy to oblige. 

*** 

I let her borrow a bathrobe, and we breakfasted. I let her shower and dress first. Then while I scrubbed, she wandered through the apartment, looking at the old photographs, the foreign art, and sundry and various things I had accumulated over the years to decorate my apartment with. 

When I emerged, clean and dressed, I found her standing in the spare bedroom, her eyes fixed on one object in particular. 

It was a massive gold knife, with a single red ball in it, marked with a kanji. 

She was staring at it as though hypnotized. 

"Kou... Kougan Anki," she murmured, as though trying to remember something from long ago. Morikawa-san turned to me. "The Kougan Anki, in the first of its six forms." Her eyes were bright but confused. "Where did you get it from?" 

"It's-- it's been mine," I answered. I, too, was in shock. Few living knew what it was. Even fewer knew details about it. How did this woman know...? 

"For how long?" she asked, and there was a tremble in her voice. She reached out to touch it, and dragged a finger across the side of one blade. It had some scratches from years of use. 

"Since I was... what, ten?" I couldn't remember much before then. The Kougan Anki had been a constant in my life, just like my Rubix cube. In the last fifteen years, there had been no need for it. 

It had been relegated to the position of object d'art; I couldn't bring myself to be rid of it. It was one of the few connections I had to my exciting distant past. 

Her face paled. "Kog- Koganei..." She dropped to the bed, her eyes wide with shock. "Koganei Kaoru..." Her fists clenched and unclenched around the bedspread. "I'd forgotten..." 

I looked at her, my mind racing to catch up to wherever she was. Obviously, this was someone I'd met before. But there were so many people I'd encountered-- and after fifteen years, who could recognize another? 

Morikawa-san, Morikawa-san, Morikawa-san. There was *someone* back in my memory, but I couldn't connect the name with either a face or a given name. 

"What's the matter?" I asked her, seeing her eyes bright with tears. Her lip was trembling, and I moved closer to capture it in a kiss. But she turned away as though I had somehow become repulsive in the last ten minutes. 

She refused to look at me. "The man in the red dress," she whispered softly. "The man with trees growing from his body. The old man with the monster dog. The woman with the flute. The ninja. And the girl with the stuffed fox." 

I nodded, still not sure exactly where she fit into the puzzle. But I could place names for all of the figures named. "Kurei," I murmured softly, kissing one fingertip, then another, then another. "Mokuren. Genjuro, Shiju. Neon. Raiha. Ganko." 

It was at Ganko's name that I stopped. 

Morikawa Gananori. 

Morikawa Ganko. 

The same...? 

I felt a sickening lump in my stomach. The Ganko I had known had been a child. A CHILD. A crybaby girl, sometimes, who had channeled her pettiness through her stuffed fox. She'd been good, granted-- not as good as me, but still good, considering. She hadn't actively participated in either the UBS or the Tendoujigoku, being too little. Afterwards, she had moved off with Fuuko to Hokkaido, I believe; I had remained with Recca. What had been so proudly billed as "Team Hokage" had disintegrated at that time. There was no further need for us, and we had drifted apart, presumably never to meet again. 

Sad, but the way things were. 

And this... this woman? THIS was the girl in my memories? 

I'd unconsciously dropped her hand at some point in time, and obviously my shock-- and perhaps a degree of disgust-- had registered on my face. New tears began to slide down her soft cheeks. I wanted to forget that we had any history together before; every adult was a child at some point in time, and she was a woman now. A college graduate. I wanted to kiss those tears away, yet knew that if I tried, I would only be kissing a five-year-old girl. 

Perhaps she felt the same way. Suddenly, I had degenerated from a man comfortably ensconced in his late twenties, into a thirteen-year-old boy. 

I patted her hair, but suddenly, it was different. We weren't a supervisor and his trusted assistant, overcome by guilt in an illicit affair which might get both of us dismissed from our positions. Rather, we were sucked into a time warp, back to our positions of fifteen years ago. 

It was incredibly uncomfortable. 

I had had images of meeting up with Recca, or Mikagami, or Domon, or Fuuko once more. Those mental dreams had always contained such phrases as, "Where have you been all these years!" or "What have you been up to?" 

But now that she was here-- and we had-- but I hadn't known-- 

I felt helpless, too, and guilty. I fought to keep my own tears inside. 

   [1]: mailto:koganeikaoru@hotmail.com



	7. Twisted Fate: Sayonara (Goodbye)

**Twisted Fate**

**Chapter Seven: Sayonara (Goodbye)**

**[Bottou-chan][1]**

**[My Page][2]**

  


I don't know how I survived the rest of that day. I don't know how I survived the rest of that weekend. Even when the workweek began once more on Monday, and I ensconced myself in the comfort of routine, the revelation insisted upon being processed and re-processed within my mind, turned over and examined from every possible, conceivable angle. 

I was a grown woman. I was old enough to make my choices. He was a grown man. He was an adult. We both were. 

Yet why, when I overhear him speaking to one of the staff, does the voice of a thirteen-year-old boy ring in my ears? His voice is as deep as any other man's, but the way I hear it, it hasn't even cracked yet. 

And me... what about me? I've graduated college, yet why do I feel suddenly like a little girl, having tea parties with mannequins, and playing with Kondo? As my private memory, it's whimsical. 

As my boss having knowledge of that facet of my past, it's embarrassing. 

I'm suddenly awkward and uncomfortable around him. He seems to feel the same way. We had been so... safe... in our disguises. No one would have known about out checkered pasts. Yet now, here we are-- and each of us is a little more vulnerable than before. 

We both know about the blood. The illegal activity. The goings-on. Granted, he was older, and his memories are more perfect than mine. But I still remember enough. 

On Wednesday, I'm called into his office. He doesn't look me in the eye when he gives me the news. "You're being transferred to our office in Kobe," he instructs me. "It will go into effect in two weeks." 

He continues to go into the more practical details, concerning such things as duties, raises, and living arrangements, but I only listen to his words with half my brain. 

Inside, I'm grateful for the escape. 

Somehow, I feel his relief, too. 

I manage to catch his eye, and his words fade for a moment. A silent message flickers between us, and he surreptitiously gives my hand a squeeze before continuing on with the minutiae. 

   [1]: mailto:koganeikaoru@hotmail.com
   [2]: http://www.geocities.com/reccamuseum/



End file.
